Fiction
Fantasy
The sunlight filtered through the forest, but the warmth could not touch her. She lay as still and as cold as the marble beneath her slim body, the folds of her white gown forever draped down the sides of the pedestal. The canopy of overreaching branches cast the golden rays of the sun with greenish tones, and in their slanting beams, the dust of the silent woods danced.
Above her, a presence drifted, dreaming and waiting. Malevolent, bitter thoughts occupied the spirit as it hovered over the beautiful maiden, she who seemed so patient, so endless, as if eternity itself had been given form. The revenant’s thoughts wandered dream-like down the dark pathways of former glory, thinking of the power it had once welded, the armies that had once marched to the call of its horn.
But what? What is this?
The Silent Woods were silent no longer. Two had entered where once the King had forbidden all, and the presence stirred with turmoil. Nothing and no one ever intruded upon these haunted paths, and even the deer had long since learned to migrate past the quiet grove of trees. Ah, humans, glorious, fallible, humans! Come closer, come closer, come closer.
Prince Addir peered around the Silent Woods and wondered why this forest remained forbidden by custom and law. The villagers clung to their superstitions, calling the woods evil and the like—but what did they know? Silly peasants. Weren’t the woods here good enough for timber? The venison eatable? He glanced over at his “shadow” and could see Jak’s pale eyes shifting right to left and back again. The King’s former huntsman’s cheek twitched with nerves, though Addir had never seen the man scared of anything before, not a charging boar or a rabid dog.
Now the huntsman’s eyes wouldn’t stop their relentless progress, and his lips pressed thin in his gaunt face. Addir shook his head. Perhaps it was the taboo of coming here that bothered Jak so. The Prince sniffed. No one could remember why there had been such a decree, or even who had built the wall surrounding the woods in the first place. How ridiculous to have laws that no one understood. When he had climbed over the mortared stone—an easy enough task—Jak had protested, but Addir would not be denied. He wasn’t a child to be told what to do. This was his land, wasn’t it? He glanced back over his shoulder, his gaze traveling over the moss-encrusted wall. Beyond, the sunny meadows gleamed gold with summer’s heat, but inside the woods, the air retained the chill of another season. In the silence, it seemed as if the world was forgotten and time meaningless.
He walked on, his steps muffled on the carpet of moss and decaying leaves. Dew-damp ferns brushed at his leather boots. Above him, the trees whispered with the breeze, a soft sigh that ran over his hair and caressed his cheek.
“Your Highness, please! Let’s go back,” Jak said. “My grandmother told stories about this place. We shouldn’t be here.” The fear in Jak’s voice drew a sigh from the prince.
“All right. If it’s so…” The sight of her stilled his voice.
Was it a statue? The figure reclined in a small clearing surrounded by low-growing grass and the blue starflowers of midsummer. She lay on a bed of marble, her white dress cinched by a gold girdle, her hands folded over her heart. Her fingers glowed white, as pale as the stone beneath her.
“Wait. Don’t go any closer. I remember a fable… something about the Maiden of the Forest.” Jak’s breath hissed out as he lightly touched the prince’s arm.
Addir couldn’t move his gaze from the girl. “I have never seen such beauty. Is she real or stone?”
“The Maiden of the Forest. This must be her. I’m an old fool to let you get this close.”
“But I remember that story. I thought it just a children’s fable. You know it, Jak. The Princess who sleeps like death and awaits love’s first kiss.”
Jak shook his head. “That’s not the story I’m thinking of, Your Highness, and either way this is no fable. There’s a reason that wall was built. Can’t you see that this is no normal wood? Where are the animals? The birds?”
“Flown away, of course. We’ve scared them with our tromping.” Addir took a step closer.
Jak shook his head and gripped the hilt of his sword. “Let us leave now, Your Highness. Leave quickly.”
Anger stirred in Addir. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then you could tell this tale to your friends over an ale at the tavern. You’ll say I ran away like a little boy with wet pants? Is that it?” Addir glared at his keeper, his shadow, the watchdog his father had pushed on him. “I don’t obey your orders, Huntsman. You obey mine.”
His gaze traveled back to the frozen girl—a princess from some distant land.
The beautiful maiden, with her face like stone, was so lovely, so perfect in feature. What glories would her eyes be? What if those full pink lips smiled? He could imagine riding into his father’s court with this forgotten princess at his side. He could hear people cheering him, rose petals falling from the sky, his father shaking his head in wonder.
He strode closer to stare down at her face. Not a blemish or freckle marred that perfect alabaster skin. And so young! Ah, to have been placed in this sorcery so young. She was younger than him and sweet and kind. Yes, she was perfect, he could tell by her face.
“The Gray Witch! My Prince, I remember.” Jak once more grabbed the Prince’s arm. “This must be the Gray Witch. This is not some slumbering princess, Addir, it is sorcery…”
“Witch? My girl is not a witch. She is a victim.” Addir narrowed his eyes. “Haven’t you heard the story? She is under a spell of sleep and she awaits a prince. And here I am. I will wake her with a single kiss.”
Jak shook his head violently, strong fingers clutching at the velvet of Addir’s coat. “No. Please. Step back. She is not sleeping. Do you see breath on her? She is dead, long dead, and it is her corpse that asks for your kiss.”
Addir shook free of Jak’s hand. In his mind, the cheering crowds gazed at him with adoration, the beautiful maid humbly blushed, and his father glowed with astonished pride. Jak moaned behind him as he stepped up to the marble pedestal. Her beauty called to him. Just as his lips were an inch from the maiden, he paused, feeling some great cold radiating up from her.
Jak hit him from the side. He flew back and fell to the grass, the crushed flowers releasing a cloying, sweet perfume.
The old fool stood in front of him with blade drawn and tears running down his face.
“You’ll be hung for this,” Addir whispered. “Why?”
“I remember now, my Prince, and I’m sorry. The Witch once covered the land in darkness. She called forth armies of trolls, and flew with demons across the skies. That is what my grandmother said, and I’m not letting you wake her. Not now. Not as long as I am alive.” He trembled, tears shining on his sunken cheeks, but his hand stayed steady on the hilt.
Addir stood up. Fury roared in his veins. He staggered with it. He’d kill Jak. He’d have the man strung up by his thumbs and tortured. No, he’d kill him right now. If he didn’t, Jak would surely murder him—he’d already drawn his sword. The old man had probably planned this all along. Addir’s hand went to the hilt of his sword, resting on the cold metal. His lips stretched into a smile. Yes, he would enjoy this. He’d kill the old man and wake his bride.
He yanked free his sword, the blade leaving the sheath with a hiss. The naked steel shone in the dappled light. Cold wind blew on his neck, like a breath whispering in his ear. Kill him. Kill him and take what is yours. The glory will be yours. The majesty. It’s yours for the taking.
Fear curdled in his belly at these thoughts. Where had this strange fury come from? He stared at Jak—a man he had known all his life—and fought down the urge to run him through with his blade. Kill Jak? Kill his shadow? Why was his head whispering murder? He backed away from the pedestal, dropping his sword to the grass.
He shook his head, as if waking from a dream. “Let’s go,” he whispered. “I need to flee these silent trees. I can’t breathe in here.”
“Yes, my Prince. Thank the Saints!” Jak wiped at his cheeks with the back of his shaking hand. He lifted the sword from the grass and led the way back along the near-invisible trail—toward the summer sunlight.
The malevolent spirit watched them go and howled with silent, terrible fury.
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Copyright 2009, C.C. Moore. All rights reserved. C.C. Moore denies all rumors that a dragon has taken up residence in her backyard. She is currently hard at work on more flights of fantasy, including a novel and dozens of short stories and has no time to feed any immense, hungry reptiles.
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